World Of Glass
by Knight of Sydonia
Summary: In a country as tumultuous as Hyrule, some things, at least, can be counted on. When fate switches ally and adversary, however, Zelda finds that even the most secure foundations can be shaken to the core. OoT AU Slight LxZ. Updated summary
1. The Chase

**Greetings, readers. I am the Knight of Sydonia, also known as La Moirae. More on how *that* strange occurrence came to be is in my profile, I won't bother you guys with it here. **

**This is my first Legend of Zelda fic. Only Ocarina of Time is taken into consideration, since a). it's the only game I've played and b). it just makes things a little easier. It takes place seven years after Link is sent back, and Ganondorf has just escaped prison.**

**PLEASE READ THIS! IT IS CRUCIAL TO GETTING THE STORY!**

**This somewhat follows the "Child Link" timeline in which Link does not take the Master Sword and Ganondorf is captured and imprisoned for treason against the king. Unfortunately, I messed up after this, since I thought it was the Hylians who imprisoned him, not the Sages. So this is actually an AU based on this timeline, mainly because I had already finished writing this chapter when I discovered this fact. My bad *sweatdrop* If I majorly goofed with the history anywhere else, please tell me.**

**/end note**

**That being said, enjoy the story!**

**Chapter One-The Chase**

Legends are the tethers that link the past to the present. No other form of narrative, no other form of recollection, has the permanence of the great tale. Memories, after all, are subject to the personal lens, and often are interred in the grave. Written histories, hand-picked by the victors, crumble to dust more frequently than they are exhumed. Yet legends are persistent, evolving but ever present, told to children who eagerly listen from their beds, whispered around campfires in the dead of night, recanted by the drunkard in the tavern who swears he was the hero. They never become dated.

Then there is truth. Most would claim, if only reciting the lessons of their forbears, that every story has a grain of truth, no matter how small. Occasionally, a stargazing youngster decides to try their luck and chase the legend, hoping to find that truth. Though most would return home, discouraged and battered, ready to settle down and marry that pretty thing next door, start a family, run a farm or store and retell their failures as a warning to their children, still others followed the rainbow to its fortuitous end, weaving tales far more appealing than those of caution . Through their efforts, stories were not always confined to mere hearsay, but instead released to the hereafter, and the cycle would once more begin through the words from their mouth.

In that same spirit, the chase began.

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An old Hylian legend begins thus:

_In what is now the west of Hyrule, there once existed the tiny kingdom of Temuria. A great man, whose name has never been passed down, was the king of this little province. When he was killed in battle, his son was only thirteen, and too young yet to take the throne. Instead, the high priestess of the Royal Temple was selected to bear the crown until the young prince came of age. Acting as regent, she oversaw all the affairs of the kingdom…as well as the nefarious activities of the future king. For the boy had a heart incapable of kindness, and his soul was blackened by a dark cloud of evil._

A quarter moon shone brightly over the desert sands, illuminating them with a glow almost heavenly. Contrasting with the sea of white was the ocean of darkness that circled overhead, a starless night despite the lack of clouds. And acting as a sort of messenger between the two worlds was a black horse and his rider, their speed leaving puffs of glittering dust in their wake, moonlight glinting off the gold that decorated saddle, bridle, and the man himself. No others but they disturbed the silence.

Most would find the desert harsh and unforgiving, a place where none could survive. Here, above all other places, the Gerudo king Ganondorf was in his element. He had conquered it, trampled it beneath his might, subjected it to his iron will, bent it till it bowed to him. The sands that scorched the throat and burnt the lungs were like an elixir to him, and he drank it in. Even the death chill of desert nights could not bite him, for it was written in his blood as surely as the sweltering heat of the desert morn.

If nothing else, it gave him great advantage over his pursuer.

He knew they would send _him_. Actually, he doubted they'd even had to raise a finger, that wretched kid being the big damn hero that he was. After seeing the guards strewn about as though they were merely dolls, the boy would have immediately jumped on his horse and made chase, desiring nothing more than to bring Ganondorf to justice.

Frankly, it made Ganondorf ill. With as much skill as he possessed, with the influence he held, especially over the princess, it would be a simple matter to take the throne of Hyrule for his own. Instead, the boy wasted his time with pointless heroics, championing undeserving weaklings who were too lazy or too cowardly to fight for themselves.

Ganondorf glanced over his shoulder. No one yet. Turning forward again, he saw a small, dark mound rising from the sands. It quickly soared to become a parapet, and the dark shadow of the rest of the castle loomed behind it, hiding beyond the sand dune. He allowed himself a smirk of triumph. His foe would certainly be too late to stop him.

_Watching the boy grow older yet no wiser, the priestess became heartsick with worry, she being the kind-hearted person she was. In the years she had spent as regent, she had become a mother to the people of Temuria, and just like a bear with her cubs, she would fight to the death to protect them. So she devised a plan to prevent the soon-to-be king's dark intentions from coming to fruition._

As the Gerudo king dismounted, he spotted a cloud of dust rising up on the horizon. His lip curled in disdain. Ah, here was his enemy now, come to try his luck against him once more. But this time, the boy had a reputation under his belt, and seven years experience. Oh, well, it hardly mattered. He was still a good distance yet. Gauging by that clock, Ganondorf knew he had enough time to retrieve his treasure, even if he had to fight for safe exit.

Ganondorf grabbed the reins and tied them to a door handle that had once led to a dark passageway, but now revealed only moonlit rubble. He pulled on the door to ensure that his tether held fast, then entered through gaping hole just a few yards away. Let the boy know he was here. After all, the hero seemed intelligent enough, or at least extremely persistent, and he would likely have combed the ruins whether the horse was tied conspicuously or not.

The interior of the castle was covered in debris to the point where it was almost impassable. Sections of even ground were so scarce that Ganondorf found himself doing an absurd dance to keep from falling over. This deterred him from peering too closely at anything, a pity considering that the artifact would be not be easily discernable, else it would have been pilfered already. Damn. He might have to wait until he gathered what remained of his tribe, which, thanks to that bitch Nabooru, might be only the Twinrova. Even in full force, it could take days for the Gerudo to sift through the ruins, perhaps only to find that his quarry was broken or otherwise useless.

By the time Ganondorf had reached the erstwhile throne room, he was growling with barely suppressed rage. Not only would he be forced to ride away empty-handed, he would also have to deal that stupid kid breathing down his neck, the considerable distance between them now greatly diminished. Glaring hatefully at his surroundings, something of interest caught his eye. At the back of the throne, a behemoth structure carved with great precision out of the earth itself, a seam traveled all the way across the edges and continued onto the floor, where it formed a square just large enough for Ganondorf's shoulders. He raised a brow. Pressing his fingers into the seams, the back of the throne separated slightly from the front. He secured his grip and heaved.

Due to his rather impressive musculature, the slab fell away as easily as if it were made of paper, cleaving in two pieces on the ground. Looking inside the square opening, Ganondorf saw a platform some feet below, and without a moment's hesitation, he jumped inside. The rough landing sent a spasm of pain through his legs, and the air carried a pungent odor that made him crinkle his nose. It smelled vaguely of fire, and as he descended the sloping staircase, sticks of dried wood cracked under his feet. Evidently, they had burned whatever was down here. Ran out of bombs, he supposed. But the extra effort had to have some purpose. He must be getting close.

Stepping out into the open space beyond the stairs, Ganondorf beheld a fairly large, high ceilinged room filled with a light haze, remnants of the former blaze. Glass crunched under his feet as he walked around, the remains of some ancient alchemy. Charred blocks of wood struck out from the floor, used to perform the necessary rites. Everything else around possessed the same level of decay, from the ashen tomes to the tarnished silver instruments and the skeleton in the corner. The skeleton wore a silvery crown that had not been eaten by time, the black stones glittering, albeit dully, in the slight glow of faraway moonlight.

Ganondorf felt a surge of triumph at the same time a lit bomb sailed over his head, plopping neatly in the skeleton's ribcage. Unconsciously, he threw up a shield in protection as nanoseconds elapsed.

_KRAKOOM!_

Ganondorf missed the blast, but his prize did not. The force of the explosion set several loose stones upon it, burying it with dust and stone. He turned to face his opponent, anger contorting his features. The boy answered with a defiant glare of his own.

"Well, well, if it isn't the princess's champion," sneered the Gerudo. "And just what crime have I committed to deserve the attentions of such an _esteemed_," he spoke this with as much as irony as he could manage, "hero?"

"You know what you did Ganondorf, now and seven years ago!" cried the boy, unsheathing his sword, which, Ganondorf fleetingly noticed, bore the royal insignia. "You tried to kill the king, burn the castle, take over Hyrule. And now you escape and take dozens more away from us! I won't stand for it."

"It was only _one_ dozen, this time," said Ganondorf flippantly. "And they deserved it, trying to kill me."

"Stop you, Ganondorf, not kill you. They didn't deserve the violent deaths you gave them."

"As always, playing the noble hero. But I know you for what you are. You're nothing more than Zelda's pet!"

Enraged, the hero yelled and leapt upward, sword slashing down, focused yet blind. Ganondorf stepped deftly aside, and the weapon buried itself in his shadow. He clicked his tongue.

"Sloppy work," commented Ganondorf in mock disappointment as he kicked the boy away. He watched as the kid tumbled a few paces, landing face down in the dirt. As his enemy struggled to get up, gasping and grasping his stomach, he walked over to the sword and plucked it from the dirt. He took a moment to admire the craftsmanship, but a rustling movement from his foe returned him to the fight. Sword held in front of him, Ganondorf approached, resting the blade upon the boy's neck.

"Surrender before I chop your he—"

A quick flash of metal.

"…_aaarrrgh_!" Ganondorf stumbled back, a splintered arrow protruding from his right thigh. The hero tossed the other half to the ground and swung his elbow into Ganondorf's face, throwing the Gerudo off kilter and causing him to drop the sword. Once he could see straight, the boy had trained his blade on Ganondorf's throat. Now it was cat and mouse, the boy threatening and advancing, Ganondorf retreating and casting around for escape.

"Why don't you go ahead and do it then?" hissed Ganondorf. "You know you want to."

"No, I'm not like you. I won't kill someone who's defenseless." They were back where they started.

"Your loss." Ganondorf flicked his hand.

Dark energy exploded outward, tossing the boy away and scattering the pile of debris left from the bomb, leaving Ganondorf's treasure exposed once more. It fell onto the motionless form of the Hylian like the rest of the detritus, hanging from his ear like an absurdly large earring. Ganondorf tramped over, extinguishing the black energy still in his hand while blood pulsed angrily around the arrow still sticking from his leg, the pain hindering him a little. Picking up the crown from the prone form of the boy, he felt a shock of cold as the metal touched his naked wrist, the only spot his glove didn't cover. His eyes widened.

_She created a crown, but it was hardly ordinary. Through her alchemy and metallurgy, she crafted a spell that could turn the blackest heart white and she dressed it in the fashion of the royal crown of Temuria. When she presented it at the king's coronation, neither the chief of the royal scholars nor the general of the King's army could distinguish it from the original. The prince did not even bat an eye as she placed it upon his head._

_Though no one could see the crown for a replica, everyone could see its effects. At once, the harsh lines of his face softened. His cold, dead eyes blazed with warmth. His smile drew people closer instead of chasing them away. As he spoke to the masses, they wondered whether their ears were deceiving them, for his voice was rich and hearty rather than harsh and rasping._

In his surprise, Ganondorf dropped the crown, which clattered on the floor and rolled away as if driven by its own power. An odd sensation filled his body, almost a tingling or buzzing, like a million ants were trooping through his veins. It was sharp but sudden, enough to make Ganondorf wonder if he had imagined it. He shook his head trying to clear it, though of what he didn't know. Still, it was there, a weight upon his mind. The sharp sound of air being sucked in awakened him to the fact that his breathing had become ragged. What…?

A groan came from somewhere in front of him. Link was attempting to move, pushing up his body with his arms, hisses escaping from gritted teeth. A couple of times he slipped down and had to start again. Progress was slow. Staring at the injured boy, a strange thought flicked through Ganondorf's mind, and he might have missed it entirely had Link not slipped again while Ganondorf was just a couple of feet away, hand outstretched. The cold wave of realization struck as he retracted his hand.

He was numb. Watching the boy stagger to his feet, he could not force himself to strike against him—his heart twitched with pity. He could not impel himself to grab for the crown at Link's feet—he vaguely considered looking for a healer, or practicing his own limited skills. No trace of hatred existed anymore. He was stupefied.

But it wasn't until he saw a reflection of himself in Link's pale face that he truly understood the extent of his transformation.

**Coming in Chapter Two: Link and Ganondorf do battle once more, and Ganondorf plans for contingencies.**


	2. Wicked Game

**Greetings, fair readers. Sorry about the delay—I was working on my other WIP and basically slacking off. I'd had this chapter written when I posted the first one, but I just never got around to typing it up. As in, I was too busy playing World of Warcraft, heh.**

**Enjoy! You know the drill. Read and Review!**

* * *

**Chapter Two-Wicked Game**

"I wonder why you wanted this?" asked Link softly as he hobbled a couple of steps forward to where the crown now laid. Still confounded, Ganondorf could only watch as the boy plucked it from the floor and began turning it over in his hands. The reflections of the jewels were the only light glinting in his blue eyes.

"It's quite lovely, Ganondorf. But surely you had other reasons to hunt this other than the fact that it'd look nice on your brow." A smile twisted Link's features as he looked to the Gerudo for answer.

Ganondorf stared back with a look he could only hope was bland. His hand twitched for the sword at his side, still sheathed. "I never thought you would be one to lust for treasure," he said disinterestedly, starting to move out of Link's range of vision, and, simultaneously, his range of attack.

Link merely analyzed the crown again. He did, however, stop twisting it around and around. "Well, perhaps I've been too busy to really _look_," he said carelessly. Ganondorf noticed his posture had stiffened. "Why? Do you think I'll take it away from you?"

"Of course I think that. Do you think I'm a fool? Do you think I haven't been betrayed before? I know desire when I see it. Comes from living with thieves and brigands."

"Such as yourself?" commented Link airily.

Of all the things Ganondorf did not want to be dealing with at the moment, the compulsion to be honest was at the top of the list, or at least damn near it. He practically had to bite his tongue to keep from saying, "Not anymore." Instead he replied, "Exactly that."

"Well you don't need to worry about _me_. I am a nice guy after all." The casual way he said this was enough to make Ganondorf's skin crawl. It was the same sort of irony that he himself frequently employed. Or _did_, thought Ganondorf bitterly. The impulse to rip apart the person who had told him of the crown (_After unnecessary roughing_, his newly born conscience chided him) was quelled by the unfamiliar desire to be merciful, which angered Ganondorf all the more.

"I'd be more than willing to give it back," continued Link, thankfully too ignorant to realize Ganondorf's mental battle, "as long as you tell me what it does."

Luckily (if it could be called such a thing), Ganondorf's need to be truthful was tempered by common sense. It wouldn't be feasible to tell Link what the crown actually did. Despite the young man's words, Ganondorf had enough experience with himself to know that Link would not give up the crown once he knew its purpose. He would leave Ganondorf to fend for himself while he used the artifact to subvert people's minds to his own dark desires. That was what Ganondorf had wanted it for, after all.

_Well I guess that showed you_, admonished his conscience. He wished it would shut up.

"I don't think so," Ganondorf said, drawing out his sword. "It wasn't meant for you." He bore down on Link from behind.

Showing characteristic speed, Link dipped down and avoided Ganondorf's thrust. He tumbled through Ganondorf's legs and before the latter took another swing he grabbed his sword and parried the weapon that arced down toward him. Pushing up from one knee, Link abruptly stood, the upward force so strong that Ganondorf was pushed back. They were stalemated.

_But the spell was not flawless. In absorbing all the wickedness from the king's soul, the crown became corrupted. Although the spell still served its original purpose, there was a modification that caused a white heart to blacken in addition to the reverse effect. And so it came to pass that when the priestess placed the crown upon the king's head, all his depravity was transferred to her. While the king spoke to the masses, she smiled a small smile, her mind racing with plans of violence and treachery._

_In a small amount of time, she was chosen as the king's advisor. In this role she would strip him down to his balls so that he would be vulnerable to her machinations. From within her lab she plotted to destroy the king's best protectors, his circle of sorcerers. She dismissed the army. And she waited._

Since he was putting all his effort into breaking Ganondorf's defense, Link was unable to react in time to his adversary sliding his sword down and lunging forward, slipping the crown that Link only loosely held onto his own blade. As Ganondorf passed beneath him, all of the force that had gone into blocking the strike propelled him to the floor, and Link stabbed his weapon into the dirt in order to right himself, clambering upon it as an old woman might with her cane.

Ganondorf, for his part, stood upright and quickly turned back towards Link as the latter struggled to stand. He raised his sword to allow the crown to slide from the blade to his arm, where it rested comfortably below his shoulder, then he approached Link with his blade still poised like that of an executioner. But he stopped short. A wave of nausea hit at the thought of what he would dearly liked to have done.

"Now I know what the crown can do," hissed Link, and Ganondorf could see that Link was watching him from the corner of his eyes. "It has made you weak, but me bold." With that, the Hylian bellowed and charged.

No effort had to be made on Ganondorf's part. He met Link's blow with the crown.

"That's not counting for intelligence," he growled, pushing the boy away with a strength that sent Link crashing to the floor, thoroughly winded. It was infuriating to be taken advantage of in a moment of weakness. Not that he could have forced himself to do it anyway, he mentally grumbled, as his inner voice chimed _It's not weakness!_

Ganondorf did not wait for his enemy to recover. While Link stumbled to his feet, disorientation making stagger like a drunkard, Ganondorf stole away up the stairs. The moonlight blinded him for a moment, but after a few blinks his vision was set to rights. Footsteps thundered from behind him, signaling Link's rapid approach.

"Coward!" roared Link, his voice echoing up the passage. "Come back and fight!"

Ganondorf heeded the challenge, but had the advantage of height. Too blinded by his rage, Link did not see the blade that waited to impale him until he was pierced in the shoulder. He cried out in surprise and pain.

Glaring down from the top, Ganondorf snarled, "Why don't you just fall down?" and kicked him away.

At least he could still hurt the boy.

_That summer, the priestess put her plans into action. In spite of the power that sorcerers had at their disposal, it was not enough to defeat the priestess's cunning and prodigious skill. Before long they were all corpses at her feet._

_Her timing, however, sounded the death knell for her plot…and Temuria as well. At the same time that the priestess was conducting her mass execution, the country was going through a terrible drought. The sorcerers had been helping to keep the land fertile, but without their aid the land quickly began to die. Tensions rose to a breaking point. The people were restless and needed a scapegoat. Once it became clear that the sorcerers had died in the palace, the citizens began to mobilize. They crafted bombs to blow away the walls, lit torches to destroy what was left, and slaughtered all who came between them and their revenge. By the end of the night almost everyone who called the castle home lay in a pool of their own blood, including the good king and the priestess. No living Temurian would ever breathe there again._

_Not long after, the crownless land was swallowed by their southern neighbor Baldor…_

Ganondorf only stood there long enough to hear his enemy's howls of pain and rage, along with the clank and clatter of metal upon stone, fade away. Then he wove his way back through the maze of debris, using as much caution as he could while still moving steadily. All his efforts could not prevent his wound from throbbing in protest, however, and soon blood was flowing liberally once more. By the time he had reached his steed, the pain was fluctuating from barely noticeable to agonizing, and he was forced to mount on the opposite side to avoid aggravating it further. Once safely astride, he jarred the sides of his horse and jerked on the reins. With a loud whinny, she reared up, wheeled around, and sprinted away into the night.

…_and Temuria ceased to exist._

***

Even though he rode all night through Gerudo Valley without any rest, it still took till dawn for Ganondorf to reach the castle. Knowing he was not welcome and needing time to think over his precarious situation regardless, Ganondorf set up camp just far enough away from the castle walls so as not to attract attention. After he was through, he carefully prised the crown from his arm, having forgotten it in the long ride.

It looked just the same as ever, a fairly simple crown of silver studded with black crystalline stones. Utterly _normal_, in other words. No one would have ever suspected it as being magic. _He'd_ known that it was, of course, otherwise he would not have sought it in the first place. Unfortunately, he didn't know enough about Hylian fables to realize that the little sneak who had offered the information was misleading him deliberately. Ganondorf didn't doubt that it was done on purpose.

_Serves you right_, a little voice said triumphantly.

The worst part was that Ganondorf agreed.

The rest of the day was spent trying to undo the spell. Touching it again with his bare hands had no effect whatsoever. All the other curse-breaking and cleansing magic he knew didn't help either. Part of it probably had to do with the fact that his whole heart wasn't in it, no matter how hard he tried to ignore the part of him that knew it wasn't right. But he also realized that spells, like good wine, grew stronger with age. The more ancient the magic, the harder it was to undo. And Ganondorf hadn't the faintest idea how old the story actually was.

At last, Ganondorf gave it up for a lost cause. Instead, he tried to focus on the future, and what he ought to do with the card he had been dealt. He balked at the idea of fading into obscurity. His ego had remained relatively untouched by the enchantment, and he still wanted to carve his place in Hyrule's history. If he had to walk the straight and narrow, he may as well man up and do the best damn job of it he could. Although he was still vaguely disgusted at the thought of being a hero, it was better than being nobody, and at least on par with being reviled.

And there was always hero worship.

Unfortunately for him, he could not go on without allies. Fortunately for him, Link could probably fill the entire castle with those who considered him a friend. Although they might begrudge Ganondorf at first (_Which you deserve_, said his conscience nastily. Who ever would have guessed that something that was supposed to be the best part of a person could be so cruel?), they'd have to open up once they understood the dire situation they were in.

Thoughtfully, he stared at the palace, imagining the entire peanut gallery inside. A figure in the window closest to him startled him from the daydream by striking him with a plan. Ganondorf immediately cut off a small section of his cape with a cooking knife and wrapped the crown in it. Then he plotted a way to get in the castle unsuspected.

As he waited for the sun to go down, Ganondorf received a visitor. Having once considered her for himself, he recognized the chestnut mare with the white stripe down her nose.

"Epona?"

She whickered as if to say yes. His own horse, who was eating from a feed sack, obligingly moved aside as Epona plodded slowly over and dipped her head into the pack. Once she had eaten her fill, she laid down to rest. Her eyes briefly locked with Ganondorf's own, and he could see sadness brooding in them.

Later on, when he awoke from his own nap, he saw a patch of flattened grass, hoofprints leading away, and no Epona.

***

Even though it was around time for his shift to end, Silas was still surprised when the other guard materialized beside him.

"Where did you come from?" Silas asked. He scrutinized the man carefully, trying to glean a name from his massive frame, tan skin, and red hair, but none came from memory.

"Does it matter?" replied the man, shrugging. "You're off. Go home, get some rest." Perhaps to egg him on, he gave Silas a good-natured slap on the back that caused the latter's knees to buckle.

Silas straightened but didn't move. Something about the way he couldn't recall this man nagged at him to give it pause. "What did you say you're name was again?"

His companion sighed wearily. "You'll wish you'd just gone."

Before he could react, the other man cuffed him on the side of the head. Silas's visor came down with a clang, and his entire helmet vibrated from the impact. The reverberation hammered his ears so badly that he wondered if he were still being struck.

Once Silas managed to get a grip on his helmet and his senses, he lifted his visor and looked up and down the walls, but could not see anyone else with him, including his assailant. On the road to the castle, however, a shadowy figure was diverging from the path, presumably to find some sneakier means inside. Silas was about to cry out when a voice near him said, "Hey, Silas!"

He whipped around immediately, thrusting his spear at the source of the words.

"Whoa, what's the matter? Get that thing away from me!"

Silas growled frustratedly and turned back to the scene in front of him. He barely heard the rants of his frightened fellow guard, despite how vociferous they were. No one out of place was visible now.

Damn. What had he done?

***

Guilty as he was for leaving that guard in such an injured and likely jittery state (one that would have caused problems for him if he hadn't informed the next guard he talked to that his friend was a little bit overworked and thus somewhat paranoid), Ganondorf knew that now was not the time to be helpful, gentle, and apologetic at every turn. The enchantment did at least allow for leeway when it came to working for the greater good, and conversely, doing what was necessary to ensure it. Ganondorf supposed he ought to experiment with his limits later. Now, however, it was time for action.

Before this little "incident," Ganondorf had generally relied on brute strength, swordsmanship, and powerful offensive sorcery to achieve his ends. Tonight, though, he needed more underhanded means to achieve his ends. Plus it helped to know what other skills he had at his disposal, skills he had learned through several years of studying magic but had rarely utilized. For one thing, his glamours were limited in scope. About the only things he could manage were lightening his hair and skin and adding the Hylian symbol to his armor. His alchemy, on the other hand, was very effective. Just a few simple ingredients and he had perfected a solution powerful enough to knock a man unconscious with just a dab on a piece of cloth and a hand around his victim's mouth.

Some things, however, could not be determined by skill alone. As he slipped into the chamber that was his destination, he felt a certain quiver of not born of fear but rather anxiety, the sort that one feels when about to step from the known into the unknown. For skill would not save him here.

"Wake up, Princess. There is a problem we need to discuss."

Oh no. Lady Luck was holding all the cards in this game.

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**Coming in Chapter Three: Zelda receives an unwelcome visitor and even more unwelcome news, while Ganondorf holds the short end of the stick.**


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